The Space Between Us

Is wanting love, love?

It sounds like a simple question, with a straightforward answer. But It’s a question that’s been living with me rent free—its a question of an ache that doesn’t fade even when life is good, even when you're surrounded by people who care. It’s there.

I had thought that wanting was just a sign of something missing. An empty space that needed to be filled, the satiation of the lack. But the more the ache presents itself and shows its familiar face with others, the more I wonder if the wanting itself might be part of what love actually is.

I mean, I had a naive viewpoint of love having lived thinking it’s a destination—a place you arrive at when everything Is supposed to click into place. But that has not been my experience of it, there never seems to be an arrival at all. If anything my time in love lives in the stretch, in the yearning, in the undeniable pull toward people who remain, inevitably, separate from me?

Because no matter how close I get, there’s always a space between. A gap where our thoughts live, our private worlds turn. And that space is what I feel my love is reaching out for…

So where do we get this thought of love as becoming one? About finding a soulmate who completes us? When you really stop to think about that—what does it mean to be completed by someone else? To merge fully with another person would mean the loss of individuality? And yes if we lose the very thing that makes us who we are, what remains for the other person to love, what seduction is there?

My truth is that I have never fallen in love with sameness or with some perfect sense of union. I fall in love with difference—with the uniqueness of someone else’s mind, with the way they see the world through a lens that isn’ mine. I love their quirks, their contradictions, their moments of mystery that leave me curious and engaged. I search for transcendent love, and that can only exist if the separation remains intact, right?

So especially for me, that distance isn’t a flaw. It’s a feature! It’s the sacred space where love lives and breathes. So why do we feel not ok with it?

My Love is, by its nature, a reaching. A constant, gentle stretch toward another person's world. And this ache I feel at the space between us—that gap I can never quite close— It’s where I feel all of the potential. It’s where I can see someones curiosity, respect, and desire take root. It’s the reason I continue to ask questions, to explore, to discover. It’s the reason my heart keeps leaning in. Because its love. Right?

If we define love as the calm, steady presence of someone who accepts us, who stands by us, then maybe the wanting alone isn’t enough. But if we see love as something more dynamic—something that exists in the pull between two separate beings—then the wanting is not only part of love; it might be what defines it. It’s the very signal that love is alive. The yearning reminds us that we are, by nature, separate—and that love is the act of honouring that separation while still choosing to reach across it.

Makes sense, especially having experienced that the more I try to eliminate the space between, the more love slips away. When I grasp, when I cling, when I demand. It suffocates. And, when I respect the distance—although feeling alone standing at the edge of my own world, looking out toward theirs, I am longing and feeling the gentle, persistent pull that is keeping me engaged, curious, and alive.

Maybe there is something sacred in the separateness that I am only now coming to understand.

So when asking the question one last time, is wanting love, love?

My response is, Its not love unless its wanting.

Bradley J Cleary